It's A Wonderful Life, Robert Crawley
by Randomabiling
Summary: After another financial setback, Robert is feeling depressed and useless. Wishing he'd never been born, a guardian angel shows him what life would be like without Robert Crawley. Slight season 5 spoiler (like minuscule). Written for the Cobert Holiday Fanfic Exchange. My prompt was silence. AN:thank you everyone for all of you who have followed and reviewed! Happy holidays
1. Chapter 1

The neatly written words on the papers before him blurred as he took another drink. Putting the glass down a little too harshly, the sound of glass thudding against wood echoed in the empty bar of the Grantham Arms. Robert rubbed his eyes vigorously, trying to read the letters before him again. He had miscalculated the worth of the Della Francesca. Going against Mary and Tom's advice, he had commissioned the builders for the new housing development before the auction had closed on the painting. Certain that the piece of art would bring in an incredible sum, Robert had signed contracts with the more expensive firm. Ground had broken on the project weeks ago.

The letter from Sotheby's was on the bar by his glass, condensation from his drink making the ink bleed into the paper's fibers. The final auction price was far lower than Robert had banked on and he would now have to dip into the coffers, depleting Matthew's inheritance more than the estate could afford. At the rate they were spending, Robert would go down as the earl that lost two fortunes in his lifetime.

Robert brought the glass of Scotch to his lips but found he was unable to take a sip, the anxiety and disgust he felt warring within, closing his throat off. He put the glass back down and shook his head, alarmed to feel the embarrassing sting of tears in his eyes. He chuckled bitterly to himself, thinking how understanding Cora had been only a few years ago when he had told her of his failed investment. He contrasted her reaction then to the one he would face from Mary now. Unfortunately, she had not inherited her mother's empathetic predisposition.

Gathering the proof of his failures, Robert stuffed the various papers he had been agonizing over into his case and paid the barkeep. Stumbling off of his chair, Robert left the Grantham Arms and took the path that would lead him back to Downton. The air smelled of snow and burnt his lungs as he drank in large breaths, hoping to clear the fog of drink. His mind continued its flagellation as he ambled slowly home. He was a failure. All his life stretched before him as one string of missteps and lost chances.

Robert's transgressions didn't stop at bad investments. Mary and Tom would do much better without him. He was only holding them back. He hadn't been able to see Edith's secret until it was right in front of his face, and dear Sybil had paid the price of his stubborn, narrow view of the world. Robert found himself at the folly of Milford Lake on the edge of the estate. He thought of Cora. This had always been her favorite place on the estate. She had told him the moss covered brick and reedy lake waters reminded her of Central Park and that she could almost pretend she was in New York, back when part of her still longed for the place. Robert sat hard on the cold ground, the setting sun illuminating the bare trees and casting golden hues on the water, and gave into the tears he had been holding back.

The empty, brick building behind him echoed his sorrow into the quiet dusk as he imagined his wife in her sitting room, writing correspondences before dinner or working on embroidery, ignorant to his latest mistake. Thinking of Cora caused him the greatest guilt. They would all be better off without him, her most of all. Robert contemplated the lake, the icy water's gentle ripples beckoning him toward it. He got up onto his feet, walking to the edge, the toes of his shoes kissing the lapping lake. He pictured himself walking in and laying back, floating and staring at the starry, December sky, shivering and waiting for hypothermia to set in. He would cease to float and gently sink to the bottom and that would be it.

Robert closed his eyes and stepped forward, the waters of the lake pushing their way over Robert's shoe and soaking his sock, his toes immediately going numb. Shivering, Robert inhaled deeply and took another step, submerging his other foot. He hissed with the immediate pain, until that foot too could no longer be felt. Shaking his head, Robert banned the images of his family from his mind, silencing the voice inside and hardening his resolve.

Before he could go any further, a scream cut through his inner turmoil and his eyes flew open, scanning the now dark landscape for the distressed person. A half kilometer away, the water was breaking with the frantic splashing of someone in trouble. Robert ran out of the water and along the bank of the lake, reaching the drowning victim quickly. Finding a long, fallen branch, Robert grabbed it and hefted it into the lake.

"Here! Here! Take this!" The flailing arms quickly gained purpose as the man grasped the offered branch and clung tightly. Robert threw all his strength into pulling the sodden body out of the water. Once the man reached shore, he lay on the ground sputtering and trying to catch his breath.

"Are you hurt?" Robert inquired, searching the man for an injury and his identity.

The stranger sat up and smiled, suddenly free of any sign of trauma. "Not in the slightest, Lord Grantham."

Taking a step back, Robert's brow furrowed in confusion. "Who are you?"

The stranger jumped up, spry for an old man who almost drowned and slapped his hands together. "I'm Hamish, your Lordship, your very own guardian angel."

Robert let out a sigh and rolled his eyes before turning away, unable to find the patience for the obviously drunk man before him. "Yes, well, at least you didn't say Santa Claus."

"Wait, wait!" Hamish called from behind him as Robert walked quickly away. "Please stop." Robert quickened his pace, unsure where his destination was, but trying to put distance between himself and the man that pursued him.

"Do you really think it would have been better for all of them if you'd drowned yourself? Would her Ladyship have an easier time of it having to be told that your bloated carcass was found in the lake?"

Robert whipped around. "You shut your mouth and leave me be! I helped you now leave me alone."

Hamish put a tight grip on Robert's arm. "No, I helped you. I was sent here to stop you from killing yourself."

Robert shook his head and sunk down to the ground. "Why?"

"Because, Lord Grantham, it's the wrong path and none of them deserve that." Hamish said, sitting beside him.

"You're right," Robert agreed softly. "I wish I'd never been born."

"Do you now?" Hamish asked, cocking his head to the side and tapping his lip with his finger. "I think we can arrange that!"

Robert's eyelids suddenly grew heavy. He struggled to keep them open. Words were trying to form on his lips but his thoughts grew foggy and jumbled. An afternoon of drinking too much Scotch was catching up to him. No longer able to support his own weight, Robert slumped down until he was lying on the cold ground, snoring into the lonely night.


	2. Chapter 2

The cool kiss of snowflakes on his face stirred Robert from a sluggish sleep. Robert frowned, still unable to open his heavy eyes, as the sound of children's voices filled his ears. Shaking the clouds of sleep away, Robert pushed himself up off of the cold, hard ground. He looked around, thinking of the night before. The lake was calm, accepting the snow as it fell languidly down into the water, no sign of the man he'd saved. Perhaps it was a dream? Or the man insane? Robert looked around frantically, remembering his case and the documents within. There was no sign of it and Robert pounded the ground furiously, tilted his head up and yelled at the cloudy sky.

"Oi, what are you yelling at, mister?" Robert turned quickly, three young boys staring at him curiously from across the lake. Robert scrambled to his feet and attempted to straighten out his damp and wrinkled clothes. He studied the children, trying to place them but they were unfamiliar.

"What are you boys doing out here?" Robert asked. The lake was far from any of the farms and the children knew not to wander the estate.

The tallest boy crossed his arms in defiance. "We've been granted a break in studies and we've come out here to explore. What are YOU doing here?"

"What am I doing here? This is my property." Robert huffed, the exchange adding to his already foul mood.

The boys looked at one another with mirth, laughing at one another. "Oh, well excuse us your lordship!" One of the boys bowed deeply. "Why don't you allow us to escort you to the manor! Perhaps you can sit in on our geography lesson." With that the boys picked up a few rocks and threw them at Robert.

"Stop that this instant!" Robert bellowed, ducking away from the onslaught.

"You better get going before we tell Headmaster there's a drunk on the grounds."

The boys laughed and then ran away, leaving Robert bewildered. _Headmaster? _Robert quickly began the long trek to the house. Of course the children had been playing a game with him, but the dull thud of a headache and his lingering depression over the latest setback had left little room for good humor. Guilt fueled his footsteps, imagining the sleepless night Cora had probably spent when he'd failed to come home.

Robert cleared the woods, Downton looming ahead, and he stopped short. The front yard was full of screaming boys chasing one another, tumbling around, playing tag. A few women in plain dress stood around, observing the boys at play. Robert stayed in his spot, watching silently, when he felt a presence by his side. He startled when he turned and realized it was the man from the night before.

"Sleep well?" Hamish asked.

"What's going on here?" Robert demanded.

"Isn't it obvious? They are playing." Hamish replied casually.

"Yes, yes, I can see that!" Robert spat. "But why are they playing on my front lawn?"

Hamish turned to Robert, the laughter gone from his eyes and looked at him. "Because it isn't your lawn."

Robert took a step closer to the man. "Now, I think I've had just about enough-"

"Don't you remember?" Hamish asked. "You wished you'd never been born and so it was granted. Downton is no longer yours. It's the Yorkshire School for Boys."

"What?" Robert gasped. "You're lying!"

Robert turned and ran toward the house, weaving his way through curious looking boys who paused in their games to look at the disheveled man who had appeared from the woods. One of the teachers saw the stranger and came rushing to him. Robert halted in his steps, recognizing the pinched face of Miss Bunting.

"Who are you and what are you doing here, sir?" Miss Bunting asked, stepping in front of Robert and blocking his progress toward the house.

Robert straightened his back. "I'm Lord Grantham, ma'am! And if you'd excuse me I am trying to get into my house."

To his surprise, the young woman let out a sarcastic snort. "Lord Grantham, you say? I'm sorry, but a Lord Grantham hasn't lived here since 1902. And the current Lord Grantham lives in London."

Robert stared at the woman, and then looked up at the house. It looked similar and yet so different. It looked older, decaying slightly, all of the money and care that he had invested in it clearly gone as it was overrun by the boisterous living of boys. In front of him Miss Bunting crossed her arms.

"You should be getting on your way before I have the headmaster call the police." She waited while Robert took one last look at the house before turning.

He walked away, feeling his empty stomach roll. He looked around for Hamish and found him waiting near the edge of the woods. Robert joined him and then looked back at the house, all of his memories playing out in his mind, his chest tightening.

"What is this, Hamish?" Robert whispered.

Hamish put a hand on Robert's shoulder and guided him toward the gates leading out of Downton. As they walked he began to speak. "Your father ran the estate into the ground, as you already know. But since you were never born, there was no American money. Your father began selling pieces of the land, trying to hold off the inevitable. The shame led to his death in 1889. James inherited the title and what was left of the estate but he couldn't bring it back and finally sold the remaining property and the house to a private investor for little money, in 1902. They turned the house into a boys school."

Robert looked at the ground as they walked, trying to digest the story Hamish was painting him.

"Are you alright?" Hamish asked softly. "It usually takes some time for people when they see the world without themselves in it."

Robert shook his head. "I don't know what I am right now. So, is James living in Grantham House?"

"No. The current earl is." Hamish replied. At Robert's questioning look, Hamish continued. "In this reality James still met his end on the Titanic. Your being here or not didn't influence that."

"So who is the earl now?" Robert wondered.

"Lets take a trip to London and find out, shall we?" Hamish asked as they passed through Downton's gates and walked in the direction of the train station.


	3. Chapter 3

Robert remained quiet during the train ride to London, the countryside flashing by, it all looking the same yet slightly altered. His thoughts tossed around in his head feverishly, the hinges of his jaw throbbed with tension. All around him people chattered on excitedly, Christmas packages adding color to the drab train car. Robert was grateful that Hamish passed the ride without needing to engage in small talk, allowing Robert his silence as they sped toward London.

Once at the train station, Hamish took the lead and Robert followed, heading in the direction of Grantham house. Robert tried not to speculate on what he would find there but despite his trepidation there was an almost fanatical need to see who had taken his place.

Hamish walked up to the front entrance, ringing the doorbell and Robert quickly followed after him, unsure of how the man planned on getting into the house. The door was answered by a severe looking gentleman.

"Good day sir. We are collecting donations for the refugees. Might the house be able to spare any dry goods or old clothes?" Hamish implored, convincingly.

Before the dour faced butler could answer, a young man came striding confidently into the foyer. Robert inhaled sharply and then covered up his gasp with a cough as the gentleman gave him a strange look before turning to the butler.

"What's this about, Brown?"

"These men have come to collect items for the refugees, your Lordship." The older man answered without taking his probing gaze off of Hamish and Robert.

Robert stood there, unable to stop staring at the man before him. He was older than Robert remembered, twelve years older to be precise. But he was still unmistakably Patrick. Seeing the man before him, Robert felt a strange excitement twist at his gut. He had always been fond of the boy and had been saddened by his death.

"Oh." The sound of Patrick's confused voice interrupted Robert's thoughts. "Well, I'm sure her Ladyship has something that can be donated. Why don't you wait here and I'll check."

Patrick left them and Robert tried not to look around too noticeably. The house was like the landscape surrounding Downton, familiar yet achingly different. Small details varied between his life and whatever reality this was. The sound of a woman's voice caught Robert's attention and he tried to swallow the frown that descended on his lips at the sight of the current Countess. He should have known it wouldn't be Mary, but for some reason he had hoped.

"This is all I could find on such short notice." The young woman said, handing Hamish a sack of dry goods and a few worn coats. Hamish thanked the couple and then nudged Robert out of the door.

Once outside, Robert turned to his companion. "How did Patrick survive the Titanic?"

"He didn't." Hamish replied. "In this world he never boarded the ship. Since he wasn't promised to Mary he met and married his wife two years before the ship sailed. She was expecting their first child that April and James took the voyage alone."

Robert nodded slowly, a question growing sour in his mouth until he had no choice but to give voice to it. "And what of Mary? Edith? All of them?"

Hamish had directed them into the park across the street and found a bench. He sat on it, contemplating Robert until he too took a seat.

"Your daughters don't exist, because you don't exist, but I think you worked that out for yourself. As for Matthew, he stayed in Manchester, never the wiser that he was next in line for the earldom after Patrick, before Patrick's wife bore a son. He tended to his law practice until the war and then he enlisted. He died at the Battle of Amiens."

"What?" Robert cried. "How can that be? He survived it!"

"No," Hamish said, shaking his head. "Don't you see? If there is no you then there is no Downton and there is no William the footman. William was with Matthew because you arranged it and William saved Matthew that day. In your reality, not in this one. In this one he was alone and took the brunt of the shell."

Robert took a shaky breath, the weight of grief settling on his chest. It was like losing him all over again.

"Tom's in jail." Hamish offered and Robert leaned on his knees, waiting for Hamish to continue. "He never left Ireland. Stayed and became more embroiled in the rebellion. Without Sybil's calming influence, without your family to show him the humanity of the people he'd learned to despise, he became a hardened socialist."

Robert breathed deeply, feeling as though the world was slowly spinning away from him. He looked up in time to see two women step from a car in front of Grantham house. The regal limp of his mother was unmistakable, as was the shock of red hair on his sister's head.

"At least they seem the same." Robert observed.

"Ah yes. The Dowager. Formidable still. She's lived with Rosamund these last years since Downton was sold off. I'd say Rosamund isn't too happy about it but…"

Robert choked out a laugh, trying to imagine just how those two were getting on. The laughter died soon enough, his heart unable to uphold the charade.

"Are you going to ask me?" Hamish wondered quietly.

Robert shook his head viciously, feeling the sorrow that had been steadily building throughout the ordeal tear open. He didn't think he could take what Hamish wished to show him. His home was gone, his daughters never brought into the world, Matthew lost even earlier. He was barely able to stand these revelations but he would be able to shoulder his hand in creating this reality if she was happy. To find out otherwise would destroy him so he kept shaking his head, hoping the man would leave him be and allow him some peace.


	4. Chapter 4

Robert rubbed his hands together, sweaty despite the snowflakes that had begun to fall down on him. Hamish sat beside him, looking into the distance, as though listening to a voice only he could hear. Adrenaline trembled through Robert, urging him to jump out of his seat, to run as fast as he could until he'd found some way to get back to where he had been less than twenty-four hours ago.

Hamish slapped Robert's knee, causing him to startle. "Come, they are waiting for us."

"Who?" Robert demanded as he bounced up, jogging to catch up to Hamish who was getting ahead of him.

Without answering, Hamish took a set of keys from out of his pocket and walked to a black cab parked down the street from Grantham House. He unlocked the passenger door and motioned for Robert to get in. Wordlessly, Robert followed his command and Hamish walked briskly to the other side of the car and slid in, starting the ignition. From the side of his seat, he produced a cabbie's hat and plopped it on his head, turning to Robert with an innocent smile.

"We're going to drive a cab? My world has dissolved around me and we are going to drive a cab?!" Robert stuttered, but Hamish didn't answer.

Sighing heavily, Robert slumped back in his seat, watching as they sped through the London streets. Hamish slowed down outside the steps of a church. Parking, Hamish turned off the car and exited, leaving Robert in his seat dumbly, until he also scrambled out of the car just in time for the church doors to open and the congregation to exit. Hamish leaned against the car, arms folded, watching. Robert looked at him curiously, before also turning. His breath stuck in his throat and his legs trembled as he saw her framed in the doorway, walking carefully down the stone steps. Robert felt himself leaving Hamish's side, transfixed, unsure what to do but drawn to her like a magnet.

Cora reached the bottom of the steps, a man he had never seen before standing near her shoulder. A younger couple with a child stood facing her, looking grim and distant. Cora's smile faltered before she pulled it wide again and stooped to the child. They were close enough for Robert to hear the younger man blow out an exasperated sigh.

"You had the best voice in the choir, Victoria. Grandmama is so proud of you." Cora bent to the level of the child. She reached a delicate hand out towards the child's head, as though she intended to lovingly stroke the braid that was woven on top. The hard grip on her shoulder by the man standing behind her halted her movement and her hand stuttered in mid air, before patting the child quickly on her arm and standing once again.

Robert's nails dug into his palms as he watched the tears that welled in her eyes hang there without release. He saw the way she drew herself up, stiffly straightening and with a slight shake of her head banning the emotions that were playing out on her familiar face.

"We must be going." The younger gentleman barked.

"William, couldn't you come over for just a little while?" Cora quietly begged the man who's lips drew into a bloodless line.

"Mother, get a hold of yourself!" And with that, the younger man took the woman by his side by the crook of her elbow and led her in the opposite direction. The young girl's hand was taken by her mother. She looked a moment longer at Cora and gave her a small wave before turning as well.

Cora stayed in her spot, eyes intent on their retreating backs. The man beside her commanded, "Come," without looking at her and to Robert's surprise headed in their direction. Robert's jaw tensed and he took a step forward, all of his tension winding up into his arm, causing the fist made by his hand to throb with the need to land on the man's smug face.

"Right this way, your grace." Hamish said, opening the door. The man climbed in. Robert scrambled to open the other and Cora reluctantly made her way to his side.

"Your grace," Robert said softly, stuffing his hands in his pockets to stop them from stroking her sad face. This close she looked so different than his Cora. She looked deflated somehow, her eyes a pale version of the one's he had looked into for so many years. Her brow bearing the creases of a permanent furrow. She smiled tightly at him before bowing into the car.

"Where to your grace?" Hamish asked while starting the cab.

"Pratt's. On Park Place for myself. Hambly House for the duchess." The duke said, adjusting his jacket and looking out the window.

Robert watched through the rearview mirror as Cora's face twisted into shock. "David, you're going to the club on Christmas Eve?"

"Yes," the man spat out, keeping his eyes out the window. Hamish parked in front of the gentlemen's club. The duke opened his door and without another word closed it behind him, leaving Cora to blink rapidly at her hands, which gripped each other tightly in her lap.

The car started again, the silence heavy with her embarrassment. Her downcast eyes and the way she licked her lip and then swallowed hard before covering her mouth with her hand and turning to stare out her own window flipped Robert's stomach. The picture she cut, alone in the back seat, slumped and dejected, made Robert shake with a need to hold her.

"Actually sir," her timid voice, stripped of its usual confidence, was a heartbreaking interruption. "I wonder if you could drive me to Hambly Manor instead. It's just outside of London, in Reading."

"Know it well, your grace. Reading it is." Hamish replied, and the car returned to quiet.

Robert kept peering over his shoulder or glancing in the mirror, trying to steal a look at her, though each one caused his chest to constrict a little more. The snow fell at a steady pace as they drove, the greyness of the snowy day soon overtaken by the darkness of night fall. The bustle of London gave way to the gentleness of the country and Robert desperately tried to think of something that he could say now that he was a stranger to her. The shortness of the drive worked against Robert and sooner than he realized, they were driving through the front gates of the estate in Reading.

The darkened house remained unmoving as Hamish parked the car. Robert shot out of his seat and opened Cora's door and she emerged gracefully, wrapping her coat tighter around herself as the night's chill rushed around them, her eyes red rimmed and desolate. A growing sense of alarm tingled Robert's senses as she dug in her purse for money. There was no staff waiting for the lady of the house, only shuttered windows and a dark door.

"Your grace," Robert began, "are you sure you should be spending the night here. There doesn't seem to be any staff."

Cora looked up at him for a moment, curious by his forwardness, before shrugging. "I don't require much so I shall be fine."

She paid Hamish the fare and then walked toward the house. Robert started after her and caught her arm. Cora turned, her eyes wide at his touch. "But there's no one to light a fire. You'll freeze. What will you do for food? Let us take you back to London!" Robert begged.

Cora stepped back, tugging her arm out of his grasp. The fear in her eyes propelled him to let her go. "I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine." And with that she hurried into the vacant house.

Robert, unable to let her go, moved to follow her, but Hamish held him back. "You can't Robert."

"Like hell I can't!" Robert cried. "Something is going to happen in there. She's going to do something, I know it."

"It isn't your place to intervene." Hamish said calmly.

"Cora!" Robert yelled into the opaque night. "Cora!"


	5. Chapter 5

Robert allowed Hamish to guide him back into the car. He sat in his seat, stunned and immobile with guilt. During some of the darkest moments of his life, Robert had thought perhaps Cora would have been better off with someone else. That he was wrong was no comfort to him. The small glimpse he had seen of Cora's life was enough to tell him it had been a harsh and lonely one for her. He felt nauseous.

"Stop the car!" Robert yelled.

Startled, Hamish slammed the breaks and Robert bolted out of the door, running back toward the house. Pushing the heavy door in, Robert rushed into the darkened great hall, looking around for any sign of her. A soft glow flickered from a doorway down the hall and Robert went quickly in that direction.

Cora was on the sofa, her legs drawn up, a blanket wrapped around her slight frame. The candle light twinkled off of the crystal decanter on the table. She stared into the glass of amber liquid in her hands. The clap of Robert's shoes echoed in the room and she looked up, her movements drowsy from drink. Robert walked slowly to where she was sitting, hoping not to frighten her.

"Your the man from the cab." Cora slurred in wonder, recognition clearing the clouds from her eyes.

Robert nodded, continuing to advance, until he was in front of her. He squatted down, searching her face. The alcohol had erased the strain and sadness he had seen there earlier and in this light, she was just as he knew her.

"I should scream," she said, almost like a question. "But you have kind eyes."

"Cora," Robert whispered.

No longer able to tame the urge to touch her, he reached out and stroked her cheek carefully. She closed her eyes and leaned into his palm, a small smile gracing her face. A whimper escaped her lips and Robert's hand left her face, took the glass from her and gripped her hands tightly.

"You're cold." Robert stated, taking his overcoat off and laying it over her.

Cora slid further down on the sofa, her head resting on the hard arm. Her eyelids drew down further as she struggled to keep them open.

"I've been cold for so long, I barely notice it anymore," she said languidly. "I seem to be getting warm at last."

"Cora," Robert said again, his voice catching. "You need to know, in another life, you are so loved."

A lone tear escaped her eye, sliding over the bridge of her nose and disappearing into the fabric of the sofa. She smiled at him dreamily.

"What a nice thought." Her voice was so low he could barely hear her.

Her lids drew down, and she blinked once, twice, before the energy to open her eyes again left her. Her mouth fell open and Robert heard the small puffs of air going out and then being pulled back in as she tumbled into sleep. Robert took the glass she had been drinking, sniffing it. Scotch. He placed the glass down again, noticing a smaller vial that he hadn't before. Picking it up, he read the label. Laudanum.

Robert dropped the bottle and took Cora by her shoulders, shaking lightly. Her head lolled to the side, the length between her breaths growing longer. Panic seized Robert's heart.

"Cora!" Robert shook her harder, but she was limp. Scooping her up in his arms, he hurried out the door.

"Hamish!" Robert yelled into the snow filled night but there was no sign of him or the cab. Robert continued on the path, slipping on the icy way and fell on his knees, Cora unmoving in his arms.

"Hamish!" Robert's scream was frantic. It was the only sound that echoed around him. Sinking his face into the crook of Cora's neck, he felt his tears warming her cold skin.

"Please," Robert begged. "I want to go back. Please!"


	6. Chapter 6

The jarring tempo of his own crying rocked Robert back into awareness. Squeezing his arms, trying to hold Cora closer, his arms were suddenly empty. Jolting up, Robert was no longer outside her abandoned estate, but laying by Milton lake. The moon high up in the sky, snow was cascading down rapidly, making the landscape bright despite the late hour. The terrible burden of holding an unconscious Cora still ached his arms, and he rubbed his biceps, unable to trust that it was all just a nightmare.

"Robert!" The sound of his name was muffled by the snowstorm but it reached his ears nonetheless and he bolted up, stumbling toward it.

"Cora!" He called back, tripping through the accumulating snow in the direction of her echoing voice.

Through a gap in the woods, she appeared, her shoulders hunched and drawn in against the wind, her hand shielding her eyes from the rapid onslaught of snow. Suddenly his feet were made of lead, the anguish he had felt suddenly leaving his body and being replaced with joy. He stood in his spot, unmoving, watching as she looked around frantically, struggling through the snow. He tried to call out to her but his lips only mouthed her name as his throat closed up. Finally, she saw him and came running, sighing his name with relief.

"Oh God Cora!" Robert suddenly became animated now that she was within arms reach. Pulling her to him, he crushed her in his embrace, tattooing her face with kisses.

"Robert, you act as though it was you who's been half mad with worry the past twelve hours." Cora scolded at his actions.

"You have no idea." Robert exhaled, burying his nose into her neck.

"Robert, I feared the worst when you never came home…" Cora said holding him tightly.

"I'm sorry." Robert said, finally stepping away and taking her face in his hands. She shook her head and smiled in forgiveness. Unable to help himself, Robert bent down and captured her lips with his, the warm, plumpness of them a gift to his senses. She kissed him back, hard while shivering in his grasp.

Robert broke the contact reluctantly and rubbed her arms vigorously. "What are you doing out here? It's practically a blizzard!"

"I was going crazy in there wondering where you were. Tom had driven to the village to try and find you but he had no luck and then had to stay due to the weather. I snuck out to look for you." Cora wrapped her arms around herself as the wind picked up.

"That was very foolish! What if you had stumbled? Or ran into a roughian?" Robert admonished her sternly.

"I did run into a roughian…" Cora teased, leaning into him. Robert chuckled and opened his overcoat, trying to enclose her in it as well.

"I don't think it's wise to try and walk back to the house in this." Robert stated. "Come this way."

Robert rushed Cora to the stone folly by the lake. Inside, they were safe from the steady fall of the snow, but the building was just as cold as outside. Robert motioned for Cora to wait as he went through the rooms, looking for anything to make a fire or cover themselves with. Robert worried that his search would be fruitless when he came upon two dusty, wool blankets in a crate deep in the building. Rushing back to the entrance, he found Cora sitting on a window bench, blowing in her hands, her chattering teeth a steady beat in the background. Taking one of her hands, Robert lead her to the middle of the room and laid one of the blankets on the floor. He then slowly began to unbutton her jacket.

"What are you doing?" Cora asked.

"Survival skills, Cora. We need to share body heat. You need to get out of these wet clothes or you'll freeze." Robert said quietly, his eyebrows bouncing with delight. His eyes then focused their serious gaze on her as he pushed off her clothing, one piece at a time.

"Robert…" Cora sighed when they were both naked and Robert brought her into his embrace.

Guiding her gently to the floor, Robert began a reverent exploration of a body he knew better than his own. She responded in kind, rubbing and kissing and touching him, creating the sensations of ecstasy that she was so adept in that soon his hands became rougher, more needy. As they rocked together toward climax Robert thought of nothing else but their bodies joined in unison. When they were both finally spent, Robert wrapped his arms around Cora and they lay curled on the hard floor, a cocoon of wool blankets scratching at their naked bodies.

"Are you going to talk to me about it?" Cora asked softly, stroking his arm.

"Hmmm?" Robert replied, trying to throw her off.

"The dealer from Sotheby's called. He wanted to speak to you about some paperwork that still needed to be finalized. The Della Francesca didn't do well, did it?"

Robert paused and then shook his head against her shoulder. "It's going to bring in significantly less than what we needed."

"And that was distressing enough to get drunk at the Grantham Arms and wander off?" Cora wondered, her voice void of anger, full instead of sympathy.

"Yes," Robert's voice cracked, the feelings of self-loathing from earlier trying to resurface.

"We can sell the Sargent too." Cora stated.

Robert propped himself up, attempting to see her face in the dark. The outline of her profile was serene and sleepy as she looked ahead into nothing.

"I can't do that." Robert said. "That is yours. A gift from your father on our marriage."

"When he gave it to me he told me I might need it someday. I had no idea what he meant, but I think this might be it." Cora turned, looking up into his face. "It's mine and this is what I choose to do with it."

Robert shook his head and closed his eyes, placing his lips on her bare shoulder. "I cannot take anything else from you."

Cora tugged hard on Robert's arm until he came back up again. Her eyes were stern and determined. "Robert Crawley, you have never taken anything from me. I've given it to you, willingly. Just as you've given me everything you have."

Robert swallowed around the constriction in his throat. He traced the noble line of her nose and the gentle swell of her cheek until his finger glided down to her lips. "You do know how much I love you, don't you? So very much, Cora."

A surprised smile spread across Cora's face. "Of course I do." Cora lifted her head and captured Robert's lips with her own. "A girl can't get tired of hearing it though." She laughed softly, her breathy laugh mixing with his own inhalations.

Robert took Cora's chin and held it as he pulled away. "I mean it Cora, I get caught up in things and worried and petulant sometimes but it never has anything to do with you. I know we've had a rough patch recently and it's entirely my fault."

"Robert," Cora said, concern knitting her brow at his ramblings. "I think we both had a hand in that, but it's past us, isn't it?"

Robert nodded, taking one of her hands and kissing the knuckles. "Just please promise me you'll tell me if you ever feel neglected again or if you question my devotion to you. Don't let it eat at you, don't…" Robert's voice faded off, the image of her limp body in his hands flashing in his mind.

"I promise," Cora said caressing the side of his face before turning once again. Settling down, she snuggled closer as Robert wrapped his arms around her securely. He stayed listening, as her breathing evened out and her body sagged with the weight of sleep. His body ached once again, this time with gratitude. He sent a silent thanks to Hamish for bringing him back, and then nuzzled his nose to the back of Cora's neck, finding contentment before drifting to sleep.


End file.
